Page 94 of The Boy I Loved
Clay eased back in his chair, sweeping a hand through his silver-streaked black hair. “I had a meeting a few days ago with Tristan, Mason, and a few potential buyers,” he explained at last. “One of them is interested in Harley. Another is interested in Magnolia. The rest want to test the girls out before they make a decision.”
“That’s to be expected,” I acknowledged.
Tristan nodded in agreement beside me. “I have a feeling that’s not the only reason you called us here.” He arched a quizzical eyebrow.
“No.” Clay sighed. “It’s not. Training the girls is taking too long. We need to start setting all of the girls up for work, regardless of whether they’ve finished their sessions or not.”
My muscles strained with tension as my mind flashed to Hazel. She couldn’t catch a goddamn break.
Tristan straightened in his seat, his eyebrows drawing together in silent contemplation. “Is that a good idea?” He wondered.
“Yeah,” Vincent added. “We can’t send amateurs out to the clubs. That’s a good way for us to get busted.”
Clay nodded thoughtfully. “I’m aware. The new girls will just have to do porn. Once they’ve completed the rest of their training, we’ll move them into the clubs and brothels.”
For some reason, a reason I couldn’t even begin to comprehend, my panicked gaze sought out Tristan’s. He was looking at me with the same frustrated glare that I was sure reflected in my own. I might not have cared for him, or wanted him around Hazel, but for now … we were on the same team—we didn’t want anyone else having her either.
“Hazel Montgomery is mine,” Tristan said bluntly, following my same line of thought.
Clay released an exasperated huff. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he chided. “She’s just another slut. Her only purpose is the cunt between her legs and what good is she if she can’t bring me any money?” His gray eyes, so similar to my own, hardened. “I had her snatched because she’s a breath of fresh air. She’s innocent and naïve with the girl-next-door vibe that a lot of the men will pay good money for.”
The arm rests of Tristan’s chair creaked violently as he gripped them, leaning forward with an equally sinister look etched into his features. “You knew her personally, didn’t you?” he accused, searching my uncle’s face for any sign of deception.
“Of course I did.” He scoffed. “She’s been friends with Dom since they were children.”
I thought Tristan already knew that, but clearly, he’d been missing most of the details regarding my history with Hazel.
“Yep,” Vincent confirmed, placing his hands on the back of my chair and leaning forward. “Dom popped that cherry, too. Didn’t you?” I could hear the excited amusement in his tone, and it only made me grit my teeth.
Tristan’s usual demeanor had slipped, replaced with a surprising softness I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen on him before. Maybe it was merely a figment of my imagination, but he looked almost … sympathetic.
“They grew up together,” Mason chimed in. “Their dads worked with each other.” There was shuffling behind me and before I knew it, Mason was strolling toward us with his phone in hand. Once he found what he was looking for, he offered it to Tristan.
“What is that?” I demanded, straining to get a look.
An image was displayed on the screen, one of me and Hazel when we were only eleven years old. We were at the pizzeria, smiling like idiots who didn’t have a care in the world. Tristan’s throat bobbed as he slid to the next image. This one was of us on a camping trip. She was dressed in a modest one-piece bathing suit,my arm slung around her as I smirked at the camera. My chest felt like it was seconds from combusting, the agony searing through me so prominently it physically hurt.
Those were simple times, times when we didn’t have the entire world on our shoulders. Mason must have gotten these photos from either her phone or her house. Hazel was always sentimental like that.
I slumped back in my seat, heat spreading through my eyes as I diverted them.
When Tristan was done looking, he grunted. I didn’t miss the look of confusion crossing his features though. He knew the two of us shared something. Maybe he didn’t realize how deeply it went.
“That was then,” Clay said, shooting Mason a pointed look. “That was back when Dominic was weak. He knows better now, though. Don’t you?” His gaze shifted to me with expectancy.
“Yes,” I gritted out, attempting to keep the emotion from my tone, so he couldn’t see that I was only saying that to appease him.
He searched my stoic expression for a few moments before nodding. “I’ve trained you well. It’s another reason I needed Hazel here. She was keeping you from becoming the man you were always destined to be. She was holding you back.” He took a long drink of his whiskey, hissing through the slight burn it left. “Capturing her had been premeditated. I’ve been planning it since last year. That’s why I sent Rodney to your school to befriend her.”
I wasn’t sure I could hate someone more than I hated Clay right now. He was fucking twisted and evil. Far more than any of us, maybe even more so than Tristan.
“She wasn’t holding me back,” I snarled, unable to help myself.
Hazel was a lot of things—the bane of my existence, the love of my life, my best friend, my guilty pleasure, and even an annoying leech at times. But she wasnevermy weakness. If it weren’t for her, I wasn’t sure how far down the rabbit hole I would have fallen. Themere thought of her kept me together at times, especially when Clay first roped me into his world.
“Agree to disagree.” He shrugged. “It’s not like it matters anymore. She’s here, and since the two of you had something to say about it, she’ll be the first one on the camera.”
Acid burned the back of my throat, anger punching through me. I had a feeling he was doing this more to spite me than Tristan, but who knew with him? All I knew was that I wanted him dead.
